"That was neatly done, though you've made enemies," Madame Bones said as she swept into her office, handing the stack of files in her arms to her assistant, who scurried off.

"I care little for the goodwill of Madame Umbridge," Bronach said dismissively. "In fact, I care even less about her continued existence."

Madame Bones sighed, rubbing her temples. "You do realize, that if the Undersecretary is found dead any time soon, I will be obliged to consider you a suspect?"

Bronach had a look on her face, Harry realized, as if she doubted Madame Bones's ability to tie the murder to her. Madame Bones seemed to think so as well, because she sighed again and opened a new file on her desk.

"Inquiry into improper assignment of Trace-detected magic," the woman muttered, quill flying over the page. "Now, who do you claim was responsible for the magic detected by the Trace during the summer of ninety-two?"

"A house-elf, currently employed by Hogwarts, who goes by the name of Dobby," Bronach said succinctly. "I have spoken to him, and he has agreed to answer any official summons that he receives."

Madame Bones stopped writing, staring at Bronach incredulously. "A house elf is your responsible party?"

"They are magical beings, capable of adjusting their magic so that it may be either ignored or acknowledged by wizarding spells," Bronach frowned at the witch. "In this particular case, the house elf in question was convinced that there was some harm offered to my ward, and sought to protect her, if in a misguided way."

"Harm?" Madame Bones repeated distantly, her motions almost rote as she began writing on the form once more.

"What the house elf knew or suspected, I could not say, but given that the Chamber of Secrets was opened during the ninety-two school year…" Bronach raised her eyebrow at the widening of Madame Bones' eyes once more. "Ah. That was not common knowledge."

Madame Bones' lips were pressed flat. "No. It was not."

"Interesting," Bronach murmured contemplatively. "The students knew. Fudge certainly knew, for he arrested Hagrid towards the end of the school year. But to act without the DMLE…I wonder how he managed to have Hagrid remanded to Azkaban."

"He what?"

"Fudge arrested Rubeus Hagrid and remanded him to Azkaban, using the false charges from Hagrid's own expulsion to justify his actions. When it was clear that Hagrid was not responsible for the Chamber, he was returned to the castle and his record expunged."

Madame Bones stared at Bronach for a long moment before scribbling a note on a piece of parchment, which folded itself into a paper airplane and zoomed out of a convenient hole next to her door as Harry watched.

"So," the woman said, clearly attempting to get back on track. "You claim that your ward was visited by an…altruistic house elf who performed magic in an attempt to…protect…Miss Potter."

"Dobby believed that there was danger at the school, and that Miss Potter would be safer if she did not return. Unfortunately for my ward, his efforts to prevent her return included deliberately triggering her Trace in the hopes that the Ministry would prevent her from returning."

There was a long moment of silence in the office as Madame Bones digested that.

"Very well," Madame Bones made a final notation on the form. "It is…doubtful that the DMLE will be able to issue a summons for a house elf, but this will be added to Miss Potter's file, appended to the original warning."

"I would consider adjusting DMLE protocols to allow for testimony from sentient magical beings," Bronach said quietly, but there was iron underneath. "They often are unseen witnesses to crimes, and may have valuable testimony to provide. On the flip side, they are a vulnerable population, and have any number of crimes committed against them."

"In Magical Britain," Madame Bones said shortly, "that is not the DMLE's field."

"No," Bronach's voice was cooler now, and Harry shivered involuntarily. "It is the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is it not?"

There was an uneasy silence in the room that Madame Bones broke by closing the folder. "You have been very active politically, for a recently returned Head of House," the witch said, eying Bronach warily. "But you have managed to make a number of enemies. A number that it has taken me my entire career to amass."

"I wish to make enemies of those that support Tom Riddle's pretentious reign as Dark Lord," Bronach said flatly. "They are not, and will not, be tolerated by my Houses. Nor, Madame Bones, will I tolerate inept, bigoted Ministry officials who cannot be trusted to properly administer the duties of their office. Tell me, Madame Bones, where is Peter Pettigrew?"

"Azkaban," Madame Bones said shortly.

"I see," Bronach's smile had far too many teeth. "And when was his trial? As Head of House Potter and House Black, I understand why I was not summoned as a Wizengamot member, but given his crimes against Miss Potter alone, I ought to have been summoned. Let alone my place as a witness."

"His sentencing was…irregular, given the situation."

"The flat refusal of Fudge to consider that Riddle may be back?" Bronach raised an eyebrow. "That situation? Perhaps you could consider my situation, Madame. The magically recognized heir to House Black remains hunted by magical and non-magical alike. You have the true culprit in custody, so there ought to be no reason why you cannot reopen the case of Sirius Black."

"What do you think that I am doing?" Madame Bones snapped, clearly about to lose her temper. "We have been corresponding for over a month, and I am well aware of your opinions on certain matters. But it is not so simple as you make it out to be! If I push too hard, you lose the only ally you have in this building. And you do not make your job easier, particularly with the performance you put on today!"

"My job as you so put it," Bronach retorted, "is to ensure that the members of my Houses are protected. But I have, unfortunately, a keen interest in the wellbeing of Magical Britain, and I find myself uninterested in pandering to the same self-absorbed interests that have brought us to this point in the first place. So, I will act as I see fit."

"The Ministry of Magic will not condone vigilante justice," Madame Bones said shortly. "And some of your letters of late…"

"On my word and my honor, Madame Bones," Bronach's voice turned deadly serious, "none will find my wand raised to them unless they have raised theirs to me first. Tom Riddle will die, as he ought to have fourteen years ago."

"That would be murder," the witch said shortly. "A crime."

"Self-defense," Bronach demurred coolly. "And besides, the Ministry's current position is that Tom Riddle was killed by my ward fourteen years ago. I would simply be correcting a magical oversight."

Madame Bones rubbed her temples. "You may use my fireplace to depart," she said, gesturing at the modest fixture on the wall by the door. "The Floo Powder is on the Mantle."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Bronach said as she rose, Harry hurrying to rise with her.

She took a handful of Floo Powder before turning to Harry. "Follow after me," she said quietly, before casting the powder into the grate and calling out "King's Cross Station."

Harry took a deep breath, summoning her nerve, but Faramir's hand at her elbow made her pause. "We will go together," he said quietly. "Cast the powder."

"King's Cross Station," Harry said in the clearest, steadiest voice she could muster. Faramir's grip was gently reassuring as they stepped through the flames and whirled away.

At King's Cross, Faramir's support kept Harry from landing on her face. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was deserted but for Bronach, who was staring at the gateway to the non-magical side of the platform.

"We will walk back," she said quietly, handing them back their pendants before leading them out through the false wall. Harry was beginning to suspect that it was the pendants making sure they didn't stand out, as people moved out of their way without actually seeming to look at them and take note of their odd apparel.

London was busy, but not ridiculously so, and Harry found that she rather enjoyed being out and about compared to being cooped up in the house. Bronach glanced at her, a slight smile on her face. "We will have to organize a few trips out for your shopping," she said quietly. "Even a house as comfortable as Grimmauld Place can be a cage."

The woman was quiet for the rest of their walk, seemingly caught up in her own thoughts as Faramir trailed behind them. But Harry didn't doubt that if trouble arose, Bronach would be fully prepared to meet it.

Which was why she hung back as Bronach's steps slowed once they turned into the square where Grimmauld Place sat, allowing the woman to outpace her as she seemed to laser-focus on the pair of tall figures peering at the place where Grimmauld was hidden.

One of them seemed to catch sight of them and nudged the other. They both turned, and Harry heard Faramir let out a breath, almost like a sigh of relief. Bronach's sigh seemed slightly frustrated, and she walked over to the pair.

"Mae govennan," one of the strangers said, and Harry realized that they looked a bit like Faramir, a bit like Daervunn and Halbarad, and more like Glorfindel, though in all cases it was a distant relationship. "It is a pleasure to see you once more."

"Are there others who I ought to expect?" Bronach said, sounding tired. "Your sister and your foster brother? The mother of your mother? Your father?"

The pair exchanged glances. "We requested to join you," the other stranger said quietly. "I cannot speak for others, but I believe that ada will not make the same request. He had a message for you, sent with us when he learned that we were joining you."

"What is his message?" Bronach said, and Harry saw the line of her shoulders tense, almost imperceptibly.

"Ada says that he sends his regrets for his words at your last meeting," the first stranger said, but Harry thought that they didn't quite understand what they were saying. "He did not understand."

"My ward ought to get off the street," Bronach said after a long, silent moment, a sharp edge to her voice. "Follow me."

Harry only half listened as Bronach introduced the pair to Grimmauld Place, naming them as Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris, and then she was being gently urged into the house by Faramir's hand on her shoulder. In the front hall, Bronach removed their pendants and asked Faramir to show the strangers around while she dealt with a few matters. Harry considered going upstairs to find her friends, but following as Faramir led the strangers downstairs seemed like a better choice. But, when she looked back, she saw Bronach entering the dining room with a ramrod straight spine, the doors latching ominously in her wake.

Faramir, curiously, led them first into a roomy kitchen beneath the house, far lighter and more spacious than he had expected. It put him more in mind of the dwarrow-halls he'd visited over the ages than it did a dwelling of men.

"Look who has chosen to join us," Faramir announced to the familiar pair sitting at one end of the table that took up most of the center of the room.

"Elladan, Elrohir," Halbarad rose to clasp their hands. "Mae govannen."

"It is good to see you well," Elladan managed after a moment, unsure of what the proper greeting for one who properly belonged in the Halls of Mandos was. He had grown used to meeting those who had passed their time in the Halls and been released, but never had he crossed the threshold, spoken with those yet held within. And, to his knowledge, there had never been a situation quite like this.

He clasped Daervunn's hand as it was offered.

"Come to join our merry band?" the man asked cheerfully.

"That was our intention," Elrohir said, and Elladan stepped aside to let his brother greet the dunedain.

"More strangers?" a gruff voice snapped, and Elladan turned his gaze to the group at the opposite end of the table. For a moment, all he could focus on was the terribly wrong eye pointed at him, and then he processed what had been said.

"Bronach brought them through the wards," Faramir said coolly, in a tone Elladan recognized from watching the man in open court sessions. "She has vouched for them."

"So you're back then," the man grouched. "But without her."

"Miss Potter was cleared of all charges," Faramir said, his voice still the same chilly formality that he used to hide irritation and a deep desire to roll his eyes. "Lady Potter had other business to attend to."

At the moment, there was a sound like breaking china from overhead. The man's eye rolled sickeningly, rotating back so that there was no sign of pupil or iris, and then his scowl deepened. "Why is Lady Potter breaking her fine china?"

"How would you expect us to know?" Halbarad retorted coolly. "You have had us under your eye for the last half hour."

Kreacher appeared from a dark hallway by the large iron stove, bustling over to pat at Elladan's knee with an affectionate smile. "Master Elladan," the house elf said, "Master Elrohir! Kreacher will make you tea. Sit!"

Glancing at Daervunn, Elladan got a nod of agreement, and took the empty seat by Halbarad. His brother settled into the one opposite him, and Kreacher had a plate of fruit-studded scones and a fresh pot of tea in front of them a moment later.

Another sound like breaking china, and Elladan flinched. Even now, he was unused to such sudden sounds, but at least he was in good company. The others, even Faramir, flinched as well, as did the group at the far end of the table.

"Master Elladan, was it?" a woman with oddly colored hair said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Unsure of what the question actually was, Elladan glanced at the dunedain for cues. Halbarad sighed and Daervunn rolled his eyes.

"She's asking if you're married to Bronach," Faramir said, passing Elrohir a handkerchief as his brother choked on the mouthful of tea he'd been attempting to swallow. "In the way of your people."

"What has been said?" Elrohir croaked, mopping at his front. "Why is such a question…"

"The mode of address Kreacher prefers has…implications," Daervunn said with a sigh. "At least among these people."

"Eowyn finds it quite amusing," Faramir said, a smile flickering around his lips.

"She would find it less amusing should Kreacher be less scrupulous about calling you Prince," Halbarad muttered, eyes flicking down the table at the eagerly listening group.

"I would be complimenting her on her taste," the woman in question said, coming down the stairs. "I thought Bronach had banned the topic of discussion?"

"She is not present," Faramir shrugged, accepting a brief kiss from his wife. "And we were not the ones to bring it up."

"Hail and well met," Eowyn said, noticing them. Elladan stood and greeted her briefly. "Are you married to her?"

"No," Elladan said firmly, before his brother could finish spluttering on his tea. "And I do not understand how we have drawn conclusions from titles."

"Typically," one of the other strangers said, shooting the woman with the strange hair and a fourth companion looks as they sniggered, "house elves only refer to the wedded heads of the house they serve as master and mistress. It is quite…unusual for Kreacher to refer to five people as master."

"Lady Potter explained this to you," Halbarad said firmly. "In a time of danger, she named multiple heirs to ensure that Kreacher would not be abandoned."

"How much danger could she have been in?" the man who had been sniggering said.

"She rode to war," Elladan said, dumbfounded that they did not understand. "How much more danger could you wish upon her?"

"There has been no war in the last fourteen years," said the man with the terrifying eye, the orb itself still rotated beyond belief.

"Not in any magical territory," the one who had explained about the mode of address said patiently. "There were quite a few conflicts in the non-magical world."

"You were told that we are from an insular society, so insular that you had never heard of it before," Daervunn's voice was curt. "Is it then so far beyond belief that you have not heard of our wars?"

"But she needed five heirs?"

"The four of us rode to war together," Daervunn snapped, gesturing to include Halbarad, Elladan, and Elrohir in the motion. "And…"

"Only three rode away from the field," Halbarad said, his voice steady. "Though, I believe, technically Bronach was also carried from it."

"She was quite put out about it too," Eowyn muttered, and then winced as there was another sound of breaking china from above. "What is happening up there?"

"Lady Potter," growled the man with the eye, "is breaking the china."

Eowyn raised her eyebrows and turned to her husband. "What put her in a temper?"

"I suspect it was the toad," Faramir said blandly, and Eowyn and the dunedain grimaced. The girl who had followed them down the stairs, the one who Bronach had introduced as her ward, Harry Potter, snickered slightly from where she was standing by the stairs.

"The toad?" the woman with the strange hair asked.

"Umbridge," Halbarad sighed wearily. "Was it truly that bad?"

"I did not think so," Faramir answered, a frown on his face. "She did not…I did not notice her control slipping until we returned."

He seemed to realize something, and turned to Elladan. "What is it that you said to her?"

"That it was a pleasure to see her," Elladan said, turning over the interaction in his mind. "She asked if others were coming, our sister and her husband, the mother of our mother, or our father, and I told her no, but that I had a message from our father for her."

"Was it private?" Daervunn asked, eyes guarded, as if he suspected something.

"I had no instructions to keep it so, and I do not understand it myself," Elladan admitted. "He sent his regrets on something he said to her during their last meeting, and that he did not understand. Though I know not when she spoke with him, given what we now know of her actions in that time period."

"She was in the north, was she not?" Faramir said, glancing at Daervunn for confirmation.

"That was what you said," Halbarad told Daervunn, who was looking at the mug of tea in his hands. "That she went north, leaving before the coronation, and spent the next ten years hiding."

"I do not know that she went to Imladris in that time," Daervunn said quietly. "Kreacher, do you know?"

The house elf shifted uncomfortably. "Mistress went to the Valley several times while there were those who remembered her yet inhabiting it."

That was not a no, Elladan thought, exchanging a look with his brother.

"Why would she have gone to see ada?" Elrohir asked, naming the burning question in Elladan's own mind. "He was preparing to sail in those years, setting all things in order."

Elladan's breath caught in his throat. He had not meant to, but he had once overheard a conversation between his father and the mother of his mother as they walked through the gardens of their new house in Tirion.

I regret my words, his father had said to his mother, for they are true. But I fear they have caused great harm in their truth. There is no ship from the Havens that will bear them hence…

The pair had drifted out of earshot, and Elladan had not pursued, understanding that this was not a conversation for him to hear. At the time he had considered it to be about Legolas and Gimli, but a suspicion was growing in his mind.

No ship from the Havens would bear them hence, he thought, and turned to Kreacher. "She came to him, to ask if she might sail, did she not?"

Kreacher's face was mulish, but he bowed to Elladan's direct question. "She did, and she did not."

Elladan closed his eyes, the weight of the realization too heavy to bear for a moment. He had wondered, as many had, why Bronach did not come over the see with the others. It seemed as if all of Tirion was curious about the strange woman who alone escaped the Gift of Men, the last hero of the Third Age to remain on the eastern shores. But if his father's words were true…

"Man agorech," he told Kreacher quietly. "Man agorech."

The house elf looked weary as he turned back to the stove.

Halbarad glanced at Daervunn, clearly looking for an explanation. Elladan couldn't bring himself to explain what he had realized and left it to the dunadan

"You must understand," Daervunn told his tea, "that she was well aware of what the departure of their people would mean for her. What her fate would be, as the diminishing of years continued even in those touched by the blood of Numenor."

Elrohir met his eyes, and Elladan saw his own grief for Arwen mirrored in his brother. It had been what drove them to sail, the loss of their sister and foster brother, and the knowledge that they would lose their nieces and nephews in the same fashion.

"But why did she not depart?" Halbarad asked, glancing between them all. "There was naught left for her."

"All she would say was that her work was not yet finished," Daervunn snorted, but there was grief in it. "But I have long suspected that there was something else. Some knowledge, granted by the gift of the Lady, that bound her to the far shores."

"We thought," Elrohir said quietly, "that she would linger long enough to see her works fulfilled. That when good things grew upon the ground where Carn Dûm stood, she might come over the sea at last."

"Carn Dûm?" Faramir said, brow furrowed. "That would be…seven lifetimes of men, would it not?"

"The years did not matter." Eowyn told her husband. "What place did she have on your ships, when the Evenstar and Elessar were not offered one?" Eowyn's face was full of grief as she turned to Elladan, even as she gripped Faramir's hand. "And they, at least, bore the blood of your people. Bronach was of neither your people nor mine, and as such she suffers from that lack."

"If it is not to bring her West," Elrohir asked, glancing around the table, "why was this arranged? Why go to such lengths to bring you all here?"

The four edain shared a long glance, full of meaning. Then, Halbarad said, his voice firm, but quiet. "We are not permitted to speak of it, but we have come to fear that this was not arranged for her."

History flashed through Elladan's mind, stories he had known his entire life, the tale of his forefather and foremother and how death itself could not part them. The only other to have walked free of the Halls of Mandos when death had claimed his soul.

"You would not go," he breathed, sweeping his eyes around the quartet. "You would not go until you saw her."

"Until she was happy," Daervunn corrected shortly. "She deserves that much."

"That is all well and good," Elladan jumped as the man with the strange eye interrupted rudely. "But none of it makes a lick of sense."

"And none of it is your business," Halbarad said, equally rude. "So it need not."

"If it upsets her enough to break china, I think it might be at least a little bit our business," the man who had sniggered with the woman whose hair was a different color now retorted.

"You hate everything in this house," Faramir told him dryly. "If you could, you would probably be helping her break the china."

There was a resounding crash, and then it went silent. Elladan glanced at the others, who seemed similarly unnerved. The terrifyingly wrong eye finally, finally rotated back down.

"She's gone outside," its owner grunted after a long moment.

Halbarad and Daervunn exchanged a long look, and then Halbarad rose from his seat, presumably to go check on Bronach.

"Kreacher," Daervunn said, and the house elf hurried over. "Would you please arrange a place for Elladan and Elrohir to sleep? I'm sure we could fit another pair into our room if necessary."

Kreacher glowered at him.

"You will not be testing Kreacher's charms like that!" the house elf scolded, wagging a finger at the dunadan. "Kreacher will be making appropriate arrangements for Master Elladan and Master Elrohir."

man agorech: what have we done (S), said by Rian to Tuor.